Broken Heart Town 2 - Don't Talk Back to Your Vampire

by Michele Bardsley

  Durriken staggered from the car, then glared at me. "Next time I will walk."

  "Suits me," I said.

  We hurried to the front entrance. Lorcan waited for us in the small, well-appointed lobby.

  "Dr. Merrick says Tamara is stable. Her room is on the third floor. I called Patrick and Jessica. They will be here soon."

  "Thanks." We followed Lor into an elevator. I felt dizzy and my fangs refused to retract. My stomach roiled. As the elevator stopped, I felt as though the floor was falling away. I grasped the wall and tried to get my balance.

  "You must feed," said Lor.

  "I will," I said, licking my lips. All the moisture seemed to have left my mouth.

  Seconds later, I stood over my daughter's hospital bed. Tamara looked like a porcelain doll tucked into a cotton-filled box. An IV was inserted into her left arm and a device on her forefinger hooked her up to a monitoring machine.

  A blond woman stood nearby. The buttoned white lab coat covered most of her clothes, but I could see the legs of her black slacks and her thick-soled black shoes.

  She smiled. "I'm Dr. Merrick. Tamara is stable, though still unconscious. We're putting fluids back into her system." She gestured to the IV.

  "What happened to her? Did a vampire…" I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

  "I'm afraid so, Mrs. LeRoy."

  "It's 'Miss,' " I said automatically. I reached down and took Tamara's hand.

  Lorcan wrapped his arm around my shoulders. He held me close and I leaned in, grateful for his comfort. I'd never had another person to lean on. For a while, I'd had my mother to help me and then I'd had Tamara. Suddenly, I realized how alone I'd been. I hadn't allowed anyone to get too close. I had kept mine and Tamara's relationship as the cornerstone of my life. Without her, I had no one.

  "Given her paleness and her exhaustion, it's my opinion that whoever fed from her took more than was necessary. As you know, most vampires need only a pint daily to sustain them. And most have more than one donor, so that each donor has at least forty-eight hours of recovery between feedings."

  Would Tamara have offered herself as a donor? Somehow I didn't think so. Tamara might've been a kid, but she wasn't stupid. She knew the dangers of being a donor just as she knew the dangers of being alone with vampires. I was the only one with whom she was truly safe.

  "She needed her mother—and I just left her there." Guilt stabbed at me sharply and without mercy. My sweet baby. My eyes ached with the need for tears. Instead, I clutched her hand and offered silent apologies.

  I turned to Durriken. "Why did you break into our house?"

  His gaze flicked to Lor. "I hunt the one known as Nefertiti. My grandfather hunted her… then my father did… and now I do as well."

  "You tracked her here?" asked Lorcan.

  Durriken shook his head. "My father and I heard about the odd town in Oklahoma and the stories about her bonding with the actor Johnny Angelo. We were told Angelo was here and so his wife must be here, too."

  "How has she escaped you for so many years?" I asked.

  "She has not been seen since the night she bound with Johnny," said Durriken. "My grandfather tracked her to Los Angeles and was close to capturing her. Then she just… disappeared."

  He turned to look at me. "I was scouting near your home and I smelled her."

  "Smelled her?" I frowned.

  "The Roma have very developed senses, which helps us find our prey," he explained. "Nefertiti's scent was imprinted on me when I joined the hunt. And I can smell a blood-full vampire at twenty paces." His gaze flickered over Tamara. "I went inside to find Nefertiti, but she was gone. So, I tended to her victim."

  Guilt washed over me anew. I had been within a fang's inch of hurting him.

  "Thank you," I said. "I'm sorry that I nearly… uh, wounded you."

  "If you mess with a cub, you risk the wrath of the lioness. You have the heart of a warrior. This I respect." He nodded approvingly, and darn if I didn't feel vindicated. "I must report to my father. Do not worry, Lorcan, we will not leave the area."

  "If you need a room…" I said uncertainly.

  "We prefer to stay close to the land, but I thank you." He bowed to us and turned to leave.

  "Wait," I said. "If you know Nefertiti is bound to Johnny, then you know that to kill her is to kill him."

  Durriken shrugged. "We do not wish to harm an innocent. But Nefertiti is not a Consortium member and so we can hunt her. She is subject to the laws of the Roma and she must pay for her misdeeds."

  "What did she do?" I asked.

  "She is a war criminal," said Durriken. "During World War Two, she was part of a special unit that was instrumental in the capture, torture, and deaths of hundreds of Roma."

  Oh, my God. Nausea crowded my throat. "Why would she and her unit target Roma?"

  "Why else? They wanted to exterminate us."

  He hadn't exactly answered my question. Why would Nefertiti want to kill Roma?

  Durriken wasn't sticking around to answer more questions. He bowed again to us, then left, the hospital door swinging shut behind him.

  Since Nefertiti had fed on Johnny and had sex with him, she bound them together for the next hundred years. Obviously she hadn't done so out of love.

  "I thought bound vampires couldn't be apart for long," I mused, thinking about how Johnny had spent fifty years searching for his accidental bride.

  "It depends on the vampires and the binding," Lor said. "The bond between Nefertiti and Johnny was purely sexual. Bindings that occur between vampires with strong emotional ties tend to have more strictures. Johnny can travel where he likes, feed normally, and live as any other deamhan fola. But he cannot mate—not until his binding is complete." His gaze pinned mine. "Eva, did you know Nefertiti was in Broken Heart? Is that why you were in the forest last night?"

  I stared at him, unaccountably hurt. "Why would you think that?"

  He couldn't answer me, but inspiration hit me like a two-by-four.

  "You knew she was here." I crossed my arms and glared at him. "Who attacked you? And why have you been skulking in the woods?"

  He drew me away from Tamara. "About a month ago, we started getting reports about a woman appearing and disappearing near donor homes. From the description, we believed it might be Nefertiti, but she's never revealed herself before. We thought she'd gone to ground."

  "Why would you think that?"

  "She disappeared, but Johnny remained alive and healthy," said Lorcan, frowning. "The same lycans that chased you also attacked me."

  If he was going to give a little, I figured I could, too. "I was there because I was looking for Lucky."

  Lorcan's expression was skeptical.

  "There's this wolf, okay? He started hanging around three or four weeks ago. Every night he visits me, but lately he's been missing. I was worried he was injured, but maybe he just moved on." Sadness hit me like a wave. It was so silly to feel bad about the wolf.

  "You were looking for a wolf?" His eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. "And you named him Lucky?"

  "Yes. He seemed to need luck. He always seemed rather sorrowful." I sighed. "He never got close enough for me to pet him."

  "You have such compassion, a stóirín," he said softly. "Would you feel better if you could pet your Lucky?"

  It was an odd question. But still, I nodded. I wanted to hug that wolf and let him know that someone on this earth cared about him.

  My fangs had finally receded, but I knew that if I didn't eat soon, I might well faint. I glanced at Tamara. She was still asleep, but the machine monitoring her heart and breathing beeped reassuringly. Dr. Merrick waved to me as she discreetly exited the room. "I've only heard about Nefertiti from Jessica. Why would she feed off Tamara?"

  "Because she couldn't feed off anyone else. We alerted the donors and tightened security."

  "But you didn't tell Johnny."

  "No. We didn't know about the Roma, either." He looked worried. "I've never kno
wn the hunters to be rash. If they are hunting her as a war criminal, then I believe she is one."

  "Poor Johnny." Empathy welled. He hadn't chosen to be Turned or to be married to a vampire. Obviously, he'd joined the Consortium in an effort to do something productive with his eternal life. But Jess had also told me how badly he wanted to get his hands on Nefertiti—and not in a good way. "Lorcan—"

  "What is it, a stóirín?"

  His voice was so gentle, so understanding, I wanted to cry. Instead, I placed my hand on his arm and sought comfort in that small gesture. "I think… I think Nefertiti has been with Johnny all along."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I ventured into the forbidden zone tonight because I heard someone call for help." I pointed to my forehead. "Psychically. Lucifer called me to that spot. Maybe the Wraiths captured her and gave her to Faustus as a plaything."

  "Wait a minute. You think that annoying feline is…"

  I nodded. "Lucifer is Nefertiti."

  "Aw, shit."

  Jessica's voice was low but vehement. I whirled around to see her, Patrick, and Johnny standing behind us. Johnny's hand was still on the door's edge, keeping it open, but it didn't take a psychic to guess his thoughts.

  Snarling, Johnny jerked on the door, wrenching it off the hinges. Patrick caught it before it crashed to the floor, but no one could catch Johnny. In the blink of an eye, he hurled himself out of the room and disappeared down the corridor.

  Chapter 11

  Believing no sacrifice was too great to find his beloved soul mate, the prince drank the awful potion prepared by his witch-grandmother.

  For a whole day and a whole night, he suffered terribly. At the end of the second day, all that made him human had been burned away, leaving only his memories… and his hopes.

  That evening, he awoke as súmaire fola—bloodsucker.

  Every day, he found shelter under the earth or in caves. Every night, he traveled the planet, searching for the soul mate promised him. He obtained sustenance from innocents, taking only what he needed. He heeded his grandmother's warning: If you allow your new nature to overtake you, you will forget your quest. And both you and the one destined for you will never find each other or true love.

  And so he guarded himself against greed, against desperation, against anger.

  Years passed.

  Decades.

  Centuries.

  Great countries fell into ruin and were rebuilt. Mortals he befriended grew old and died. Again and again, the cycle of death and rebirth filled the endless stretch of time.

  And still the prince did not find his beloved.

  After a thousand years of wandering, the prince sought the table of a fortune-teller. At dusk, he entered her tent and bade her to look into his future.

  "Please," he begged. "I have given up everything to find the other half of my soul. I can think of nothing else but of her, the one I can love, the one who will complete me."

  Though the fortune-teller feared the súmaire fola, she looked into her crystal ball and told him the truth. "The one you seek has been born and raised on a small farm. She is a lovely lass of marriageable age, though she rejects all suitors."

  "Tell me more," demanded the prince. "Are you sure it is she?"

  "I tell you what the crystal reveals. It does not lie." She looked again at the swirling colors inside the globe. "She is well loved by her parents and her sisters. She is kindhearted and never speaks in anger. Her patience is legend. Ah, one of her many gifts is that of song. When she sings, all weep at the sound of her voice. Yes, my prince, she is pure of heart and strong of spirit. She is all that you desire. But she is a poor, simple maiden—will you still have her?"

  "I have amassed enough riches for a hundred lifetimes," said the prince. "I have waited a millennium just to see her face, to kiss her lips… to pledge my heart to her. Where is she?"

  The fortune-teller shook her head. "The crystal ball does not reveal her location. But if you go west, you will find what you need to continue your journey."

  "How will I know her?"

  "Hair the color of a raven's wing. Lips as red as the rose. Skin as pale as morning cream and a gaze the soft brown of a doe."

  His vigilance had been rewarded! Excited, the prince paid the woman handsomely. As he left the old and ragged tent, he walked west and thought about his maiden.

  Finally…oh, finally… he would embrace his true love.

  —From The Prince and the Maiden,

  an unpublished work by

  Lorcan O'Halloran

  Chapter 12

  Lorcan, Patrick, and Damian stood outside in the hallway and discussed carpentry and security. Dr. Merrick had checked on Tamara and pronounced her on the way to recovery.

  I slid more ice chips into my daughter's mouth. As sorry as I was to know Johnny was loose in Broken Heart chasing Lucifer down, I was grateful that his temper tantrum had shaken Tamara out of unconsciousness.

  "Mom," she said, staring at my mouth, "you're getting all fangy. Did you have breakfast yet?"

  "I can take care of that," said Jessica.

  I leaned down and kissed Tamara on the forehead. "I'll be right back. Eat more ice chips."

  She rolled her eyes, but dutifully put another spoonful into her mouth.

  Jessica led me into the empty hallway and offered her wrist. I held onto her arm and pressed the pulse point against my mouth. Other than that first drink from Mortie, I had never supped on another vampire. I didn't know if it was the fact that Jessica and Patrick noshed on each other or that she was from a different Family, but her blood tasted different—sweet even. After I was finished, I said, "I feel like I drank chocolate."

  "Our donors eat a lot of Godivas," she said, grinning.

  We returned to the room. Tamara's gaze was all over the vampire twins and Damian. Damian was kneeling and fingering the bent door hinge. Patrick was arguing with Lor in Gaelic, so I couldn't understand a word.

  "Those dudes are hot," announced Tamara.

  Both Lor and Patrick shut up and turned to stare at her. Damian looked up and grinned wolfishly. My daughter's face went bright red.

  She drew the sheet over her head, muttering, "You can stake me now."

  Laughing, I tugged the sheet down. "If you think they're cute, wait until you see the guy who rescued you. He looks like somebody peeled him off the pages of a manga book. His name is Durriken."

  "Yeah, well… I guess I'll have to thank him," she said with a slight shrug. I knew my daughter—she was pretending disinterest, but she'd darn well anticipate meeting the guy. Although I wasn't sure that introducing her to a boy who probably knew seven hundred ways to kill was a good idea. Then again, who better to protect her?

  "How do you know it's raining cats and dogs?" I asked Jessica.

  Jessica blinked. "Um… I dunno."

  "When you step in a poodle," Tamara answered. "How do you get a bull to stop charging?"

  I snickered. "You take away his credit card. What did the cow say to the horse?"

  "Hot damn! I know this one!" Jessica did a drumroll on the side of the bed. "He said… why the long face?"

  We cracked up. Yes, it was silly to giggle over such crappy jokes, but it had always been a surefire way to lighten our emotional loads. My mother had started the Bad Joke tradition when she lay dying in the hospital, her cancer too far along to cure.

  Patrick joined us. He put his arm around Jessica and kissed the top of her head. They looked like someone had smacked 'em with a happy hammer. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to know that kind of love. Those two always looked… aglow, for lack of a better word.

  "Why did Humpty Dumpty have a great fall?" asked Patrick, his silver eyes twinkling.

  "Oh, do tell," said Jessica.

  "To make up for a lousy summer."

  We all groaned.

  "And I thought our jokes were goofy," said Tamara. She smiled, though, and I knew she was mentally adding it to our List o' Lame Laughs. She
glanced at me. "I must admit Patrick's joke tickled my risibles."

  "Your what-ables?" asked Jess.

  "Risibles," I repeated. "It means one's sense of humor or one's sense of the ridiculous." I grinned proudly. "Darn it! Another ten-pointer! How did you remember the word of the day?"

  I explained to Jessica how Tamara and I kept a word-of-the-day list and the rules of our little game. Jessica looked at me speculatively. "You knew Faustus was a cent-a-thing just from the mind pic he sent you."

  "He was a centurion, or centurio. They were professional officers in the Roman army that commanded between sixty and one hundred sixty men—known as a century."

  "Or centuria," added Tamara. "Was he carrying a vitus?"

  I nodded. "That's a short staff, or vine stave, that most centurios wielded. They mostly used them to discipline, whacking 'em across the backs of their men."

  "You guys are freaking geniuses. How do you know all this stuff?" Jessica asked.

  I suddenly realized that everyone in the room was not only listening but also looking intently at me. Heat rushed to my face, though I didn't think I had enough circulating blood to create a decent blush. I looked at the scuffed toes of my hiking boots. "I watch a lot of History Channel."

  "And she reads everything," said Tamara. "She's brilliant." Her tone defied anyone in the room to disagree. Pride peeked through my embarrassment.

  "Yeah, she is," said Jessica. "Damn straight."

  "Eva?"

  Lorcan stood next to me, his fingers grazing my elbow. I could see that he wanted to talk to me alone. I waved again to Tamara and followed Lorcan down the hall and into a private room.

  "It's nearly eleven," he said. "I will go to the library and see to its opening."

  "Oh my gosh," I exclaimed. "I forgot all about it!"

  The library was mine for only a little while longer and here I was, slacking in my duties. But then again, nothing was more important than my daughter. Still, I felt guilty.

  He stood very close to me, his gaze on mine. "You are so beautiful."

  Warmth suffused my cheeks. I shook my head, but I didn't want to discount his compliment.